


green as life, red as pain

by Shadaras



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Force Ghost Luke Skywalker, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21746398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/pseuds/Shadaras
Summary: Kylo Ren reforges his mask.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9
Collections: Writing Rainbow Green





	green as life, red as pain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fairleigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairleigh/gifts).



Kylo Ren drew in a deep breath and tried to focus. He was _good_ at this, when he wasn’t tormented by visions or constantly interrupted by alarms or infuriatingly minor tasks that _needed_ his input. (He couldn’t smash Hux’s face in. Kylo Ren kept telling himself that. If he did, then there wouldn’t be any halfway competent lackey to keep the First Order running while he meditated, which would defeat the entire purpose.) But since Crait, he just hadn’t been able to _focus_ on anything.

He would sit down to meditate, and everything would start out perfectly fine, right up until—

“You still haven’t learned anything,” Luke Skywalker said, calm and almost amused, right beside his ear.

Kylo Ren growled. His muscles had automatically tensed at the intrusion into his space, but there was nothing _there_ except the soft warmth of the Force, luminous and green as life itself in the darkness of his mind’s eye. If Luke Skywalker had manifested like this in the past—

 _No!_ He shoved himself away from that line of reasoning. He wasn’t here to dwell on the past. He was here to rebuild his present.

The shattered pieces of his mask were easy to see, limned with blood and plasma that glowed heart’s-red. It was a simple task to bring them together. It was far easier than constructing a lightsaber, which overflowed with the Force; his mask held only the symbolism he had granted it, and no power of its own. Kylo Ren felt his heartbeat steady again with the simple task as he floated flecks and splinters together, filling in the gaping holes between the largest fragments.

“This isn’t what it means to move on.” The disappointment in Luke Skywalker’s voice still festered deep in Kylo Ren’s throat, choking him. “You’re only tying yourself more deeply to your mistakes.”

Over the metal clatter of his broken mask falling, Kylo Ren screamed, “Shut up!”

The sound echoed in his empty chambers, rattling off the bare walls. His eyes now open, Kylo Ren examined the space for any sign of his fallen— foe, he ended the thought, pointedly and bitterly, throwing it into the Force like a weapon, as if the thought alone could spear Luke Skywalker when his own lightsaber had been unable to.

(That Luke Skywalker was haunting him didn’t make anything better. It meant that the old man had died, and that Kylo Ren had failed to do the deed himself. From the radiance Kylo Ren caught glimpses of when he wasn’t careful, he’d even died _at peace_ , which hurt more than he could have possibly imagined.)

Kylo Ren gritted his teeth and picked up the shards in his bare hands. The sleek black plasteel was a comfort, still imbued with the last resonance of his ascent and the power he’d once been able to hold so easily. He fingered the broken sides, thoughtfully, and didn’t notice the way it sliced his skin until he saw the deep red blood welling up and dripping upon the floor. Then he swore, and flexed the Force to bind his skin closed.

Then he paused, and grinned. “You can’t stop me,” he told the empty air where Luke Skywalker had been. He turned and knelt next to an old locker. He opened the combination lock without thinking, fingers just as swift now as in childhood, and drew out a soldering wand and ruby-red solder. “You can fuck with me in the Force, but you can’t prevent the work of my hands.”

As Kylo Ren laid out his workspace, losing himself in the precision of hands and metal, he felt—for the first time in long weeks—content.

(If it reminded him of long nights in his father’s workshop, or of free time spent poking around the Jedi Temple’s hangar, well—those were thoughts he carefully didn’t allow himself to think.)


End file.
